end of the semester pleasures

My grad students came over to the house last night for their final class. It was so wonderful to see them. This has been the one of the best grad classes I've taught at SDSU; the students are smart and motivated, and they are all so interesting and doing such different things with their lives. We were a large bunch this time; because of the budget cuts, this course was capped at 30 students. That's pretty big for a graduate seminar--it's certainly bigger than any graduate class I ever took--and it kind of defeats the purpose of graduate study, where you want to be able to make connections with people and to be able to converse in depth in more focused, intimate settings. But somehow we've been able to make it work anyway. If this has worked, it's only because of them, my students--we have a really good cohort this year.

The cookies came out great. It's kind of amazing what a difference it makes when you're actually paying attention to the recipe, as I am required to do now. There was one snafu when I realized that I had no idea where I had put my coffee maker (this happens kind of a lot these days--whoops! Lapsed synapse!), but that was about it. Of course the students were extremely polite and refused to eat all the food there (more about this anon), so now I have tons of leftovers and it appears I have completed enough holiday baking to suffice for the season.

Although I have commented on the enormity of my appetite before, so...we'll see!

So: about students and their appetites.

I remember many professorly parties from my own graduate school days. I always thought that was such a nice gesture: often the professor would have us all over at the end of the semester for some little gathering or another. I loved to look at professors' houses, and of course, as a starving graduate student, there was always the prospect of free food.

And the professors at the University of Washington, which I attended for graduate study, had such interesting outside lives and interests. Their houses were invariably fascinating, with quirky furniture pieces they would pick up in--say--Senegal. The houses always had what I would call that "professor" design, whatever that means. There's lots of variety involved, but something at the core is always the same: the darkish colors, the interesting stuff, the way it pulls together but not in the way you'd think.

After having seen it all over the place in Washington, it's been something I've aspired to myself ever since.

And they were always such good cooks! I remember going to several parties where the professor had obviously gone to some effort to provide good food--there would always be cheeses and breads, and frequently some hot appetizers and other delicious little nibblies. And then all the students would stand around looking at this marvelous meal, eating nothing!

Where does this come from? Is it some misguided sense of propriety that makes us believe we should not eat when we attend a party? Women's magazines are full of sage advice about how you should eat a meal before you go to a party, so that you don't pig out once you're there.

But as a host, I just want to tell the world that this is so lame. There are few things so rewarding for me as preparing good food for people that they really like and enjoy. I will be bummed for days if I invite a friend over for dinner and that friend just picks at the plate--it's even kind of insulting. Did they not like the food? What was wrong? I can only speculate.

So when people come to my house and eat, I am so gratified. I want them to eat everything. I want them to have seconds, and then some. I don't mind if they stick their fingers in the bottom of the pots to get the last of the juices. I find it enormously flattering. Just eat the food--and share the enjoyment with me.